


And It's One, Two, Three Strikes

by iceberry



Series: Shot Heard 'Round the World [1]
Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baseball, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 14:29:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7536436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceberry/pseuds/iceberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Continental's shortstop, Abraham Woodhull, gets thrown out halfway through a game. Again.</p><p>(turn MLB au because, no one stopped me. just imagine the revolutionary war, except it's major league baseball)</p>
            </blockquote>





	And It's One, Two, Three Strikes

“Ben, after tonight’s game, the Continentals' record is 32-53 with one game to go before the All-Star break. How are you going to come back from that?”

Rivington is one of the most obnoxious sportswriters Ben has ever met. There’s some whose questions are too personal, others who just want a nice soundbite and don’t actually care about the game. Rivington is both of those things, and then some. The _Gazette_ is a trashy paper, anyways, and Tallmadge has no idea how James Rivington managed to get into the press room in the first place.

“We’re working hard,” he replies, aware that the answer is frustratingly vague, but he’s not going to drag his own team in front of 20 cameras. “Sometimes things don’t go as planned, but we’ve never been a conventional team, and we’re going to work hard to come back. There’s still 77 games left, and we’re going to try to win as many of them as possible.”

“Mr. Tallmadge, what do you think of the rumors that some of the upper management think Washington should be replaced?”

He doesn’t see who asks the question, and he’s unsure of where to look as he responds. “I think they’re absolutely wrong. Washington's leadership is exactly what this club needs right now.”

And from the way back, the question he’s been dreading: “How does Washington plan to deal with Woodhull after tonight? This is his 6th ejection of the season, how much longer can this go on?”

Personally, Ben is ready to _throttle_ the shortstop after tonight, but it’s definitely not the night to make the PR people angry about him ruining his nice-boy image. They have enough to juggle right now – notably, the player in question. Once again, he veers towards the vague – but civil.

“Abe’s a valuable player for us – he’s one of the best fielders in the American League, and no one is perfect. I know Washington will make the right decision as for what to do.”

The door to Ben’s left swings open. Caleb’s standing in the doorway, and he jerks his head in the direction of the hall.

“Thank you everybody,” Ben says, trying not to look _too_ excited about leaving before all the questions are answered. It wouldn’t be good press. He slides out from behind the blue-and-gold table, and flashes a final smile for the camera. _Hopefully that one makes it onto the front page of the_ Gazette, he thinks, _instead of Abe screaming at the ump_. He’s always been an optimist.

()

“That sure was a civil reply about Woody,” Caleb says, grinning.

“I’m sure Washington and Robert are giving him enough of an earful without me having to chime in too,” Ben replies, and Caleb laughs. It's true, but he knows that Ben is just as pissed as the rest of the team at Abe, even if he's more diplomatic in his interviews about it. There's a reason Ben does more post-game Q&A's than Caleb, and it's mostly because swearing isn't allowed on National Television.

They walk alone down the hall in a comfortable silence for a bit, Caleb thinking that whatever architect put the pressroom so far away from the locker room was a _goddamned_ idiot. _Who cares if it’s closer to the press box? They’re not the ones playing a sport for 2 ½ hours_. He opens his mouth to complain out loud, but Ben interrupts him before he can voice his thoughts.

“Sorry about that curveball that hit your arm,” he says, glancing over. “My release was off.”

Caleb shrugs, lifts his arm up so Ben can see it. “It’s a bruise. I’ll survive, Tallboy.” Ben smiles at the nickname, but there’s still traces of guilt on his face. The catcher gives him a light punch in the shoulder. “There, now we’re even.”

()

“Look Rob, I fucking get it, okay? Will you shut up and let me change?”

“No, because I have to go _home_ with you, and I’d rather argue with you now than in bed.”

Abe stuffs his uniform shirt into his bag, gritting his teeth. There’s no reason Rob should care so much about this, he _gets it_ , he knows you can’t scream at umpires over something like that, even though Akimbode was _absolutely_ out. It’s not his first game, he’s not some _rookie_.

“Washington won’t put up with this much longer.” Robert suddenly sounds less preachy, more tired, and Abe looks up from shoving his glove into the side pocket of his bag. Rob still looks angry, but now he’s _really_ upset too, and it’s in every line of his face and every word. It's the expression that gets Abe, shakes him out of the haze of anger a bit.  He’s right, of course – obviously in the heat of the moment Abe hadn’t been thinking about anything but the call, but Lee’s been out for Washington all season, and he made the manager look bad. “You know he’s not above trading you.”

The shortstop slumps against the locker, slides down to the bench and rubs his eyes. “Babe, _fuck_.” He doesn’t look at Rob. The full magnitude of his ejection suddenly hits him. He could be sent to another team, moved down to the minors. He'd be on a different team then Rob for the first time in 4 years, and that shakes him the most. Washington's made an effort to let them play together as long as he can afford to - partially because the media loves it, and partially because he genuinely cares - but he has limits too, and Abe's suddenly realizing how close he might be to pushing them. Rob reaches over and puts his hand on Abe's shoulder.

“I’ll talk to him for you.”

“You’re my _fiancé._ That’s pretty much the definition of biased.”

“Fine, then Anna will. Mary will. I’m sure Ben can convince Alex to.” Robert somehow sounds both confident and almost pleading at the same time. “But you can’t keep doing that shit.” He smiles thinly, trying to hide his worry a little. “I couldn’t deal with the headlines if you were traded.”

Abe lowers his hand from his eyes and laughs a bit, looking at Robert. “I don’t know, ’MLB’s first couple torn apart by trade’ has a nice dramatic ring to it. I’d read it.” 

Robert makes a face. “Sounds like a _Gazette_ headline.” He watches Abe for a sec; his fists unclench a little and he finally seems to be unwinding, but he doesn’t move until Rob throws a t-shirt in his face.

“Hurry up. I’m starting tomorrow, which means I actually need sleep.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Shut up.”

Rob’s halfway out the door by the time Abe has his shirt over his head, and he smiles at his back, somehow knowing without seeing that Rob is smiling too.

Robert Townsend was the best fucking thing to ever happen to him.

()

“Who’s starting for the Rangers tomorrow?” Mary calls, pulling the ponytail holder out of her hair. It snaps out of her hand and lands on her glove, where she leaves it for now, yanking the brush through her curls.

“Simcoe,” Anna replies from the showers, the answer followed by the sound of the water being turned off and wet footsteps on the tile floor.

“The creep who kept hitting on you in Triple-A?”

“Unfortunately,” Anna says, obvious disgust on her face as she walks to the bench next to Mary’s. “I’ve never been as thankful as I was the day he got traded to the Queen’s affiliate.”

“You always get the weird guys after you. Do you still talk to that guy from the ‘Coats?”

“Edmund Hewlett?” she gets out while trying to maneuver a sports bra over her head. “He’s kinda sweet, actually.”

Mary raises an eyebrow as she folds her uniform before stuffing it into a laundry bag. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Anna shrugs. “I think I’m going to ask him out to dinner after the Futures game.” Mary scoffs a little at that, but Anna doesn’t let it bug her. Edmund is far from being a great personality in the league, and most of his interviews don’t do much to help his constant sports blog characterization of being the most awkward member of the Red Coats. And honestly they’re not _wrong_ , but it’s a little strange at worst and mildly charming at best, which is better than Anna can say of most of the men in the league.

“Wait, he made it to the All-Stars? Isn’t his ERA like 6.5?” Mary sounds genuinely incredulous, not condescending, just confused.

“No, he’s going to support Andre.” Mary pulls another face as she sits down to pull on her sneakers, which Anna can’t help but laugh at. “You just don’t like Andre because he dated your girlfriend.”

“Peggy Shippen is _not_ my girlfriend –“

It’s Anna’s turn to scoff. “Right, she’s just a model you talk to almost every day, who asked the _owner_ of our team for your cell number the day after you came out in _Sports Illustrated_.”

“Oh, shut up.” Mary’s face is burning, and the cap she pulls on and lowers over her face does nothing to disguise it.

“I give it two weeks before the sports blogs find out.”

Mary just pulls the cap further down.

**Author's Note:**

> baseball terminology:  
> triple-A - one of the levels of minor league baseball  
> ERA - earned run average. 6.5 is really bad.  
> affiliate - refers to a minor league team thats associated w a specific major league team  
> futures game - happens the day before the all-star game, basically all star game but with minor league players  
> all star break - the all star game is a game w the best players from the two main leagues (american vs national) that happens about midway through the season. theres like a 5 day period w no games for the rest of the teams because of it
> 
> this is unbeta'd and i wrote it at 1 am so please let me know what i messed up or what you liked!! feedback all-around loved as usual
> 
> this is totally self-indulgent and was a total impulse write but i actually have a lot... of ideas for this au lmao. im currently working on a much longer townhull project but i may return to this verse if people like it. i'm just really glad aus allow me to write the first president of the united states managing baseball. this entire au was inspired by a gif of o's player mouthing "come on, motherfucker" at the pitcher and me thinking "that is absolutely something abraham woodhull would do"


End file.
